Summer Pain and Autumn Love
by thelordsnow
Summary: Fourteen year old Kithrin has much to learn about the world of love, in and around Winterfell. But with an abusive father, she holds scars that will take more than just Passion to Heal. With a decision before, between two men, and freedom, she may have to put her wisdom to the test sooner than anticipated.
1. Old trouble

**This story is based in a slightly AU Winterfell, were Ned never left for King's landing, and Jon never left for the wall. Kithrin is my own character, and i own none of the characters used from George R R Martin's world. **

**I;m not completely sure if i will continue this story, i shall wait for you to state your opinion, but know that i do have a plan if it so happens i do continue.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Prologue_

I despised the feeling of flour between my fingers. Like sand, I hated sand. It was so rough, and coarse. It got everywhere, and was impossible to rid yourself of. And it wasn't the only thing that I hated that was hard to get rid of. Before my mother died, she used to warn me, against men. She would say that I was beautiful, and that it shouldn't stop me in the world, but that I needed to be careful. And so I continued kneading the dough in my hands, trying profusely to ignore the eyes I could feel roving all over my body. Someone entered the kitchen, whispered something to his friend and a yell went up. I paused, not wanting to look around, because I knew what it was. I knew it was me. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and willing myself to ignore it. My fingers found the dough again and my rhythm resumed, raising a sweat on my brow. Without warning, I felt a hand on my waist and the next second I was facing my father. His breath was on my face, and his hands were on my breast and it was all I could do not to scream. He pulled me from the room, leading me by the wrist, making me endure the torment of the hands of the men around me. Every woman in the room stood and stared, not moving to help, watching silently, with pain in their eyes. I did not blame them. If they made a move to help me, they would be as hurt as I was about to be. My father continued too pull me along, squeezing his hand tightly around my forearm, making my eyes water with pain. The passage came to an end in sunlight, but he didn't lead us out. Instead he turned and pushed me against the wall, fumbling with the lace of his breeches and holding me against the stone with his knees. His face was inches from mine, so close it was a surprise he could not taste the salt as tears ran freely down my cheeks. I let out a dry sob, and his hand slammed against my face, covering my mouth and pinning my head against the wall. My head swam as it throbbed from the impact. He seemed done with his breeches and I closed my eyes as he pulled at my skirts, raising them above my waist. I tried my hardest to be somewhere else, to imagine this was not happening that I was dreaming. I tried to imagine Winterfell's Godswood, the steaming pools, the times I had sat there, watching Robb pray silently, and then slip out of his clothes revealing his toned figure…watched as he slipped into the hot water…saw the muscles of his back tighten and relaxed as his body got used to the heat of the water…

All that was gone though, as my father thrust into me. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but the pain as he started to pulse back and forth was unbearable. I tried to cry out, but his hand tightened painfully around my jaw. My chest heaved with emotion, the tears not slowing. He grunted as the pace quickened, until he convulsed, spending his seed inside me. I tried to control the impulse to run as he pulled out of me, stepping back and wiping a hand across his mouth. He re tied his breeches, stopped to look at me for a moment, and then he was gone, and I was alone. I waited a minute, to make sure he didn't want to come back for more before sliding down the wall and letting the sobs echo around the narrow passageway. I wrapped my arms around myself, burying my face into the wool of my sleeve. Slowly, I came back to myself. Legs shaking, I stood, holding the wall for support. I heard footsteps approaching and began to walk as fast as my weak legs would carry me, in the other direction, towards the light, wiping my face on my sleeve, trying my best to dry my face. A hand grabbed my wrist from behind and I gasped and span, only to see Mag, a fellow cook. She looked at me, and then enveloped me in an embrace. I held myself together, trying not to show how much he had hurt me. She pulled away.

"It will be over soon, just think about that" I nodded, and she was gone. I understood her briskness, knowing that if her absence was noted, they would know where she was, and that could not be allowed to happen. I straitened myself, setting my skirts in order and then clasped my hands in front of me and made my way to the light. I could hear the sound of people sparring in the yard and my heart dropped. Robb was most likely out there, with Jon. I could not bear for Robb to see me like this, but if I stayed here any longer, one of my father's friends would find me. With a deep breath, I stepped out into the sunlight. Robb was in fact out there, as was Jon. Robb was currently stood with Bran, adjusting his brother's grip on a tourney sword. Jon was stood leaning against the wall…right next to the arch I need to walk through. I took another breath, and walked straight towards it, keeping my face low. But as I strode past, I glanced over at Robb, remembering my time in the Godswood and then remembering my father…

A stone appeared before my foot and I was on the ground before I realised what was happening. I cried out, my hands slamming the ground to soften the fall. The rough ground grazed along the heels of my hands, making them sting and shake even harder. The tears sprang free of my eyes again, running down my cheeks in frantic haste. A gentle hand took my by the shoulder and I looked up, hoping to see another cook, or a servant or anyone, but instead found myself looking up into the face of Jon Snow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern filling his voice. I looked around, my eyes finding Robb, who had looked away from Bran and was staring in my direction, frowning. I felt my head nod, as Jon helped me to my feet. I tried to speak but the tears would not let me get a word out. a flush crept slowly up my neck.

"What's your name?" he asked, a hand resting on the top of my arm. I flinched away from the touch, only able to feel my father's rough grip.

"Kithrin m-Milord, I-I'm sorry" I couldn't take the pity in his eyes any longer and so I fled, running as fast as I could out of the practice yard, and up towards the castle walls. I found the stair easily enough, and after a pause by the first guard I met, who passed me with a nod, I reached the top of the outer wall. Once alone I collapsed, falling against the grey merlons, gulping the fresh air into my lungs. I would have to go back down at some point, but for now all I could think about was the look on Robb Stark's face when I had run, sobbing, from the yard.


	2. New concern

Jon was coughing roughly when Robb entered the room. His hands sat taut on the windowsill and the morning air blew his hair softly, breaking the messy frame it created surrounding his face. Robb shut the door quietly and, brow furrowed, made his way over to his half brother. "Jon?" the coughing ceased, or at least calmed as Jon turned towards him. His eyes were red and sore and he was breathing heavily through fitful attempts to stop the coughing.

"I'm fine" he strained "a tickle is all" he reached forward and pulled the shutters closed and then turned towards Robb attempting a smile. "What did you want to talk about?" Robb remained unconvinced and crossed his arms over his chest. Jon sighed, wiping a hand across his mouth and making his way over to a dresser where a set of small toy figures lay as if knocked over in panic. That made Robb smile. He remembered those figures; given to Jon on his seventh name day. They were well done replicas of the Winterfell's household guard at the time. He had never seen Jon so thrilled at anything in his life. However, though for a moment he rested on a nostalgic plain, the shaking in his brother's hand brought the concern back to his mind.

"Are you sure you're well? That cough…"

"…Is nothing" he replied rather briskly "a cold is all. I was out training as bit late last night."

"I think you should go to Maester Luwin – "

"I said I'm fine Robb!" He turned his back, running a hand through his hair almost as if gaining control over himself. He seemed to realise how harshly he had spoken through the silence that ensued and fell back onto his bed with a deep sigh "I'm sorry, I'm just tired. There really is no need for concern" Robb stepped towards the bed and fell down next to him.

"Everyone is. And the days shorten. Winter is coming"

"Winter is coming" Jon echoed. There was silence before he sat up and looked over at Robb. "What are your fears?"

"My fears?"

"Yes…" he paused, chewing his bottom lip as he always did "I…I feel…Lost, Robb. So lost" the despair in Jon's voice brought him up next to him.

"Lost? What do you mean?"

"I mean" he stood and made his way back over to the dresser, taking the figure of a knight between his finger where he rolled it back and forth, scrutinising it as if hoping it would give him an answer. "Where do I go? How am I supposed to go about my life with a name like Snow and – "

"Wait" Robb said, almost smiling "this is about that? About the fact that you are a bastard?" he couldn't help himself then, and let out a bark of laughter falling back onto the bed with relief. Jon didn't move. He was now staring down at the figure in his hand with a look akin to anger on his face. Robb turned his head, glee quickly escaping his features "Jon?" and without warning and with a cry Jon launched the figurine at the wall and as if in slow motion the knight cracked and fell, broken to the floor. His arm came up and swiped the entire set across the room before he fell to his knees. Robb scrambled from the bed and crouched before his brother.

"Jon!? Jon What is it?!" he took his face in his hands, surprised to feel the moisture of tears.

"You don't understand" he screamed, bringing Robb up short in shock at this sudden outburst of emotion. This wasn't Jon. He was normally so calm, so reserved. In the training yard he would let loose, yes. when it was just them but other than that…the years of rejection had taken their toll. He preferred his own company and tended to slip off into the Wolfswood without notice, returning days later to the wrath of his father. But Eddard understood, in a way Robb didn't think he ever would. Sometimes he got the sense that his father was hiding something from him, that something had happened between himself and his bastard boy. Something that brought a different closeness that Robb knew he could never attain. And he was envious. But Jon was Jon, and this was not.

"Jon, look at me! Look at me!" he pulled his face up to his "you are skilled; you can do anything I can"

"No" he whimpered as his body began to tremble. "No…" Robb was unnerved, completely astounded at how quickly this had all happened. He pulled back, dropping the hands from Jon's face and standing quickly.

"What's wrong Jon?" his brother raised a hand and Robb aided him to his feet where he stood as if his whole body was being pulled to the floor. He coughed again, raising a cloth to his mouth. "What's that?" the heir to Winterfell indicated the cloth

"This? Something that girl dropped. I meant to take it to her but then the…I never did." Jon's eyes found Robb's "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me" Robb shook his head and walked over to the window, pushing the shutters open again.

"Something in Kithrin's face, a fear, and she was running. I don't know" he sat back down on the bed, rubbing the material between his fingers. At the window, Robb was smiling. "What was she running from? Up onto the walls…I checked, talked to the sentry on duty. She was up-upset" his words were interrupted by another fit of coughs. Robb turned from the window crossing his arms again, watching Jon carefully. "I don't know why I'm thinking of her" he shook his head "you came to speak to me?" that took him aback. Of course he was here to talk to him.

"Yes. It was about my betrothal."

"Betrothal?" Jon asked, confused.

"not official, but impending. I ought to marry soon. But there is the matter of whom."

"Well there have been many to visit lately. Lady Roslin, she was fair. And she took a liking to you."

"Yes, but she is a Frey. You cannot blame me for not wanting to marry a Frey. Have you seen her sisters?" After a moment, both burst into laughter, tacked with a cough on the end on Jon's part.

"You should see Maester Luwin about that cough."

"I will, if it get's worse. I promise" he smiled and stood as Robb made for the door. They clasped forearms briefly. "You aren't lost Jon; you just need to find what's confusing your direction." He stepped back and tugged slightly at the cloth tucked into Jon's belt "I would start here" he laughed as Jon pushed him playfully from the room.  
Jon turned and strode slowly over to the window, leaning on his arms as he looked out. The ache at the back of his throat was growing, along with the twisting in his stomach. He would see Maester Luwin if it go worse. He had promised Robb. Arya was below in the yard, trying her best to train her unruly direwolf. Nymeria she had named it, a fitful name he thought. A nudge at his knee alerted him of his own wolf's presence. Ghost was growing swiftly, but he was still one of the smallest of the six. Even so, his red eyes reminded Jon was the Godswood and that made him smile. Even if there was something wrong, the God's would look over those he cared for. Wouldn't they?


End file.
